Learining to play the music
by Dr.SuperWhoJohnLock
Summary: John is trying to deal with Sherlock death, but something happens when he is hit by a car. Post Fall. If you do not like Males with Males, DO NOT READ. Teen for now, but may become M in the future
1. Chapter 1

_**Learning to play the music**_

* * *

**I do not own Sherlock, BBC does. I am just a person who is obsessed with JohnLock, but who isn't. Please do some feedback, this is my first Fanfiction. if you don't support Males with Males. DON'T READ! simple.**

* * *

**Chapter one**

"SHERLOCK!"

I yelled, feeling my vocal cords break as a yelled to my friend. He ignored me and jumped, looking like a lost bird trying to fly. His coat billowing around his slender body as he plummeted to earth. I didn't see him land. I _heard_ him.

I woke with a start, my face wet and my sheets torn from my bed and the pillows thrown across the room. I was shaking and still heard the crunch of my friends last moments. I was still crying silently. I knew what Sherlock would say if he saw me. I wished he would. Wished he would sneer and laugh at me. Wished he was alive. Wished that sometimes, I was not.

I had to live because I owed Sherlock. His last wish was that I lived. I knew it. He wouldn't jump without a reason. He had to have jumped to save me. I wouldn't let hid cool and calm facade fool me into believing he was a machine, no matter I said. He was kind and sweet and caring, even if he didn't know it I knew. He said he didn't have friends but I knew that was false. He had me. He had his brother. He had Ms. Hudson. He had friends.

I looked at the calendar in my room. Wednesday. Today was the day I went to see that therapist.

I groaned and wiped my face. I went downstairs and saw his empty chair. I Wanted to get rid of it but I never would. It would be like getting rid of him. I had gotten rid of his lab equipment and threw away all the papers that he hadn't written on, as those where special. I kept the chair, his close, and his violin. The beautiful violin case was left on the window seal, never to be opened.

I almost ran out the door when in my mind ,I heard him playing. Panicking at the thought he was there. The music was sweet even if he was just trying to make noise. When he was trying to make music, it was the most beautiful thing you have ever heard.

When I had gotten outside I felt silly at running from ghost. But still didn't regret running. I caught a cab and was trying to keep from thinking till I got to the office door. I walked inside and sighed my name. Feeling like a nutter for just being inside this place. The wait was very troubling, as I tried to keep from wondering to the basement of my brain. Where my friend lived, and where my feelings died.

After a 30 minute wait, the therapist came into the waiting room. She was a nice lady by the name of Scarlet Henley. She was 5 foot 2 and blonde. She might have been my type but lately, I haven't been caring. I followed her room. The office was warm and had a single window and two chairs, angled at each other with a coffee table in the middle . I smiled as the place reminded me of Baker Street and the grimaced at the thought.

She sat down in one chair and pulled out my file and pinned it to the clipboard and clicked her pen. I said nothing, dreading the talk and the aftermath of it. She cleared her throat and asked me in a soft soothing voice that I instantly didn't trust.,

" John, we both know why you are hear. Why don't you tell us? Just to make things clear." When I didn't answer. She had asked me to do the one thing I can't. " John, tell me about Sherlock."

I looked at her slowly, my mind clear and clean. I scanned her up and down, taking in all the details. I just wanted to hurt her in someway the make it clear that she hasn't earned the right to say his name. I spoke with my brain, not voice. Not letting my emotions cloud my brain. Not wanting to ruin the clarity.

" Dr. Henley, I do not think you have earned the right to say his name when you have cheated on your boyfriend three times this past week with different people each time. Nor with the fact that you have a drinking problem and a history of prescription drug abuse." I spoke with a conference that surprised me. That surprise breaking the clarity of my mind like fine glass and lesions and broke the fine walls my brain had put up, protecting me from the pain. Letting the thoughts of Sherlock seep into my conscience. Breaking me inside and out.

While I was breaking, she was busy dropping her jaw and trying to get composed again. witch told me I was right. The therapist had composed herself and was eyeing me with a new light, like I was a cobra rearing my head and exposing my fan.

This time when she asked me she didn't say his name, fearing what I would say next. " John, I know you hurt but that doesn't mean you have to hurt others. Now why are you here?" Inside I was waging a war, should I say why, or should I lash out again. I chose the speak why I am paying her. " I am here because..." I took a breath. " my best friend Sherlock is..." Should I say it? If I do it becomes real. " dead." My voice caught on that dreadful word as I fought back the tears. I am a soldier. I don't cry.

But I do, and I did. I cried as I looked out of the window. My head full of that sound. That awful, awful, sound. The sound that haunts my nights and days. She just nodded her head and wrote down, admitted the death. For some reason this made me hate this blonde. How dare she write it down as a casual event . That pushed me beyond my breaking point. I got out of the chair, ignoring her protest, and out the door and started to walk. I walked in a daze. Not caring, not thinking. Just walking. I walked without aiming towards a target. It wasn't till I saw lights and heard a horn that I was aware that I had walked into a street and into the path of the car.

The car hit me hard,to the point that I flew a meter. I didn't blackout the second my head hit the pavement. I just felt pain. Somewhere in my mind the soldier, the survivor, was crying that I needed to survive at all cost. But the other part just thought that this is what HE felt. A impact and pain. I was somewhat calmed by the thought and relaxed. At that point I blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

* * *

_I apologize for the short paragraphs. I am writing these when I have time and short paragraphs are the result. I will try to inlogate them as I go._

* * *

" I didn't try to kill myself, I was just walking." Clearly Lestrade didn't believe me. I thought about that one voice, telling me to give up. I might have tried to kill myself. But I don't think I did. I wouldn't do that. Not now. Not to his memory. I looked at Lestrade, trying show him that I didn't want to. But Lestrade wasn't looking at me. I looked at Molly, she too wasn't. They truly believe it.  
" Lestrade, you betrayed Sherlock and now you come on here and try to do the same thing to me! Look at me! You can't just give into popular belief again!" Lestrade flinched at the truth of my words.  
" I didn't betray Sherlock. I was doing me job. I'm not betraying you, you are betraying yourself. Don't try to blame this on me." He almost yelled at me but I knew he was convincing himself rather then me.  
I didn't regret provoking him. I regretted using sherlocks name to do it. I. Thought I wouldn't do that to him, yet I did. I looked at Lestrade with a look that showed my hate of the man, and his had him slowly back up and away from my capable hands and eyes. I was looking at him like Sherlock.  
" Out." I didn't yell at him. I Commanded him. Lestrade was going to say something more till Molly looked at him. He sighed and stepped out of the door, slamming it. Then I realized how bad my heard was hurting and fell back against the bed. Molly looked frightened, I understood why. I had changed.  
She walked over and didn't say a thing. I knew what she wanted to say. Molly oped her mouth and closed it again. She was thinking of how to tell me something.  
" just tell me already Molly." I didn't yell at her. I was just still irritated from Lestrade.  
" John, don't blame Lestrade. He had to do that. And don't blame yourself, you couldn't say anything that could have changed it. He had to jump. I don't know why. He just had to." She looked as tho she wanted to say more but thought better of it. I looked at her in a new light. She was smarted then she looked.  
" Molly, I already knew this. Why else would he" I couldn't say it "do that. Now why are you here? It's just a concussion. No big deal." At this her face got red.  
" Only a concussion! John you walked right into the street! I don't care if you didn't think about killing yourself! It happened John!" See calmed down and spoke softly " John I know you where close the Sherlock, closer then anyone I believe. This must be hard for you but, you need to move on. Get a hobby! Don't let him ruin your life john. I would know about that."  
She was right. I couldn't let him do that. I just nodded as she left, even tho she couldn't see me. I looked up at the ceiling. Looking for answers. At some point sleep took me. Sleeping was a mistake. My brain was still swimming with Sherlock and his fall. I was still emotionally scrambled from my encounter with Molly and Lestrade. This was the perfect combination for a nightmare. Tho these weren't uncommon since the fall, they still hurt. And this one was different.

_The day was cloudy so I could see him. I could see his black coat that matched his raven hair so well. He looked like a almighty raven, perched on the ledge do Saint Bart' wind was facing me, blowing the coat and hair towards me. He never looked so well, yet never looked so broken. My phone was still in my hands when I heard him, 'look at me, keep your eyes on me'. I did. As he threw his phone away, my phone useless against him and his quest. 'SHERLOCK!' I yelled trying to keep him from jumping. I knew what happened next. The sound. I closed my eyes and waited. Nothing. "John, John. I am so sorry. I didn't know this would hurt you so bad. I had to John. I had to. Moriarty was going to kill you john. I had to. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. Please forgive me."_

In snapped my eyes open. I found my eyes, once again, wet with tears. I still heard his low voice that rumbled in his chest. I still felt his breath on my ear. Damn these nightmares. They always make me think of things that could be. What was that voice? That wasn't there before. Now I now my brain is scrambled. Sherlock saying sorry, multiple times? He would never. But yet I could still hear the rumble of his deep voice.  
I am determined to get out of this hospital bed! One more night and I will go crazy! I swung my legs over the side, my head protesting At the sudden movement. As I placed my feet on the floor I hissed at the sudden cold. I went over to the chair and put on my cloths. Just as I pulled my fleece jumper over my head there was a knock at the door. The nurse walked in and told me where to go for the paper work. As I walked out the doors of the hospita.l I reviewed what Molly said, get a hobby. That sounded about right, but what could I do? When a black car pulled up in front of me I had no choice but to go meet my 'caretaker', Mycroft.  
Since... The fall, Mycroft has been checking up on me, just to keep me from doing something drastic I think. I now see why Sherlock hated his brother, nothing is more annoying then a person in high places mother henning you. The car ride was uncomfortable.  
No more does he take me to obscure places, since there is no person to hide these meetings from. Just as you would think, Mycroft's office, in his mansion, was extremely posh. Leather seats, one full chouch, beautiful tables, lamps, and a full long windows. Mycroft, as always, was sitting in a tall leather bound chair, tea in hand. Tea sounded good.  
Mycroft looked down at me and had an assistant get me some tea. He didn't speak for a while and just gazed at me, not hiding his piercing eyes. I shifted in my seat, trying to shake of this uneasy feeling. Only when the assistant returned, tea cart in tow, did Mycroft Speak.  
" As you know, I have had you under constant watch. Let me ask you this, how did you find all the cameras in your flat? I put them in high places john. You can reach them. So that means someone has been in your flat, taking out my cameras. You should not return. This person may be friend or foe, but let's not find out."  
This had me wanting to chunk something at this man. I set my tea down on the table. I had to breathe slowly to keep from attacking him. " You had my flat bugged?" Slowly I asked him, not trusting my mouth, or hands for that matter. He looked at me and nodded calmly taking a sip of tea.  
" Why John, you have a slight anger problem now. You need to keep this in check. Can't have you in jail for punching someone now. That would be unfortunate." He took another sip of tea.  
I stood up and walked out, not being able to handle him any didn't try to stop me. Knowing there would be a car out front, so I went out back. I was wrong. Mycroft, the smart bastard, knew I would do this and had a car out back with the door open. I climbed inside and the phone was on and Mycroft's voice came over the radio, " We wouldn't want one more incident would we? " At this point my mind cleared again. I wanted to hurt Mycroft. Why didn't he try to save Sherlock? Why does he have cameras on me now and not then? Why!  
" Mycroft, why don't you tell Lestrade hi from left in a poor sport at the hospital. I can see you have ben close since Sherlock died. Very close. Good luck." The line clicked at this point. There, I don't think he will be kidnapping me any more. I could tell by the impression left in my seat and a stain on the couch against the wall. The impression was in the form of Lestrade's sitting. And the stain, well, you can guess. Careless Mycroft. I could spend that long with Sherlock and not pic up a few tricks. Same with the therapist, three different smells of shampoo on her hair, men's shampoo. The alcohol is by the coffee table that had nicks on it from glasses missing the table and drug abuse from the prescription pad left on the desk, where as a Doctor would put it in a locked cabinet or in her desk.  
Sherlock has chained me in many different ways. These past 3 months have been horrid, as I have began to realize how much he has changed me. I got out of the car and into the door. Ms. Hudson was out. What did Mycroft mean to do by telling me the cameras where out? What could he gain? I sat disown in my chair and gazed at Sherlocks. A hobby she said. My gaze shifted from the chair to the window, the to the violin case. A hobby. I almost jumped out of my chair as I ran to my laptop and looked for violin teacher in the area. A hobby I shall have.


End file.
